Page 35 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
My rational brain should have been horrified by his possessiveness, by the way he manhandled me like property rather than a person. But my omega instincts were singing, practically purring with satisfaction at being claimed so thoroughly by such a powerful alpha. The dual response was dizzying, my mind struggling to reconcile feminist principles with the primal thrill of being wanted this completely. Was this trauma bonding or just really good pheromones?
“Please,” I heard myself begging, the words bypassing my brain entirely. “Mark me. Show everyone I’m yours.”
Who was this person and what had they done with the real Ty Hart? The one who’d spent his entire life avoiding exactly this kind of alpha domination? Apparently, that Ty had left the building, replaced by this desperate, needy creature who wanted nothing more than to be claimed and owned.
With a snarl that sounded barely human, he positioned himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me without hesitation. “I’m going to fuck you,” he stated, the words a promise and a threat combined. “I’m going to knot you. I’m going to fill you with my seed until you’re dripping with it. And when I’m done, there won’t be a single alpha in this city who won’t smell my claim on you.”
My back arched at his words, my body offering itself up to him in a display of submission that should have embarrassed me but instead felt like the most natural response in the world. “Yes,” I moaned, spreading my thighs wider. “Please, alpha, take what’s yours.”
Without further warning, he drove forward in one powerful thrust that had me crying out from the intensity. The stretch was overwhelming, bordering on painful despite how wet I was, but my body yielded to him as if it had no choice, as if it recognized its owner. The paradoxical sensation of being simultaneously torn apart and completed left me gasping.
“Fuck!” he groaned, his forehead dropping briefly to rest against mine, the only moment of vulnerability in his otherwise relentless claiming.
Then he was moving, setting a punishing rhythm that spoke of possession. Each thrust was a statement of ownership, each withdrawal a promise of return. His mouth found mine again, kissing me with the same intensity as his lower body. His tonguemimicked the rhythm of his cock, fucking into my mouth with possessive strokes that left me breathless.
When he broke the kiss, his mouth didn’t leave my skin. Instead, he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jaw, my throat, lingering at the sensitive spot where my pulse hammered beneath the skin. His teeth grazed my scent gland again, the pressure just shy of breaking skin, sending electric shocks racing through my system.
“He tastes as good as he smells,” Mr. Enigma commented from where he stood watching, his hand moving in long, deliberate strokes over his cock. “I can tell from here.”
“Responsive,” Mr. Storm stated, his voice rough with desire.
Their commentary only heightened my pleasure, my body responding to their attention. The wet sounds of our bodies connecting echoed through the room, slick squelching with each thrust as Mr. Iceflare continued his relentless pace.
His mouth moved lower, finding my nipple and closing around it with a sudden, sharp bite that had me crying out. The pain bloomed into pleasure as his tongue soothed the sting, the dual sensation making my back arch off the bed. He switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment—teeth, then tongue, pain then pleasure—all while maintaining the brutal rhythm of his hips.
“That’s it,” he growled against my skin, his breath hot against the sensitized peak. “Take it. Take all of me.”
My hands clawed at his back, nails digging into muscle hard enough to leave marks of my own. The pleasure was building to unbearable heights, coiling tighter and tighter in my core with each precise thrust. He seemed to know exactly where to aim, exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly how to drive me rapidly toward the edge.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice carrying the full weight of alpha dominance. “Show them who you belong to.”
My release hit with devastating force, and my back arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from my throat as pleasure crashed through me in waves. My inner muscles clenched rhythmically around his cock, trying to pull him deeper, to keep him inside.
But he didn’t stop. Even as I came down from the high, he continued his relentless pace, fucking me through the aftershocks with a determination that had me gasping. The oversensitivity should have been painful, but instead, it just pushed me higher, building toward another peak I hadn’t thought possible so soon.
“Again,” he growled, suddenly shifting our position. The chain at his wrist rattled as he pulled me up from the bed, his powerful arm wrapping around my waist as he pressed my back against the headboard. The new angle had me half sitting, half lying, completely at his mercy as he drove upward into me with even greater force. The change in position sent him impossibly deeper, hitting new spots that made my vision blur at the edges. “You’re going to come again for me.” His mouth found mine again, his tongue fucking into mine with the same rhythm as his cock, creating a dual invasion that left no room for resistance.
From this new position, he could go even deeper, reaching places inside me I hadn’t known existed. Each thrust sent jolts of pleasure racing through my system, building rapidly toward another climax that seemed impossible yet inevitable.
“Look at him take it,” Mr. Enigma groaned, his hand moving faster over his length as he watched. “He’s fucking incredible.”
“Ours,” Mr. Storm declared, his eyes never leaving my face.
Their words, their obvious desire, only heightened my own pleasure. I felt caught in a web of alpha attention, wanted and claimed in a way I’d never experienced before. The knowledge that these powerful men desired me, needed me, was intoxicating.
“Who do you belong to?” Mr. Iceflare demanded, his teeth grazing my earlobe before biting down hard enough to sting. “Say it. Tell them.”
“You,” I gasped, my body trembling on the edge of another release. “I belong to you, Mr. Iceflare.”
Something flashed in his eyes—triumph, satisfaction, something deeper and more complex. His rhythm changed, became more targeted, more deliberate. One hand slid between us to wrap around my cock, creating a dual assault that had me seeing stars.
“Come for me again,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for refusal. “Now.”
For the second time, I shattered beneath him, my body convulsing with the force of my release. This orgasm was even more intense than the first, waves of pleasure crashing through me until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel. My release painted our stomachs in white stripes, the evidence of my pleasure stark against our skin.
But still, he didn’t stop. His stamina was inhuman, alpha biology giving him an endurance that left me gasping. Even as I came down from the second peak, he was already building me toward a third, his pace never faltering, his grip never loosening.
“One more,” he growled, suddenly shifting our position again. The metallic links of his chain clinked together as he pushed my legs up, bending them toward my chest, opening me completely to his assault. The new angle allowed him to drive even deeper, hitting spots inside me that triggered waves of sensation so intense I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. “Give me one more, little mouse.”
